Goats and Caterpillars
by Follow-ur-Shadow
Summary: Donna learns something new and unexpected about Harvey (darvey established).
1. Chapter 1

**Goats and Caterpillars**

**Summary:** Donna and Harvey are trapped in an elevator and things don't go the 'suggestive' route Donna is expecting (darvey established).

**An: **I'm not even sure what this is haha. It was originally going to be a one-shot attempt at angsty/humor but now I'm thinking there's scope for a second chapter? Also, all the Yankees stats are real, I did my homework :P

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The elevator creaks ominously, the lights flickering as Donna pulls her manicured nail off the alarm button and takes a step back in-line with Harvey. 'Jeff' the friendly but seemingly dimwitted maintenance guy hadn't offered them much in the way reassurance, aside from they're 'working' on the problem and it 'should' be fixed soon.

She's expecting some kind of quip from Harvey, either witty or sexual but the only sound he makes is a soft fast murmur to himself.

"336, 333, 314..."

Her brows knit together in confusion and she angles toward him with a quirk of her lips, "what are _you_-"

"Yankees batting averages." He snaps the explanation at the sealed doors- like it's not big deal they're trapped in a metal box hanging thirty-seven floors in the air, strung up by cables no bigger than his thumb and forefinger squeezed together.

The walls groan again, no doubt sweating with the increasing heat, and he tries to swallow the panic closing around his throat. "304... 292, 290..."

He continues to push the numbers out under his breath, clenching and un-clenching his fists and she stares at the odd behavior, circling back through every fact and piece of information she's learned about him over the years. She would _know_ if he had a fear of small spaces... but then again it's not like they've ever been stuck in one before and she gently tests the observation. "You're claustrophobic?"

"Don't be ridiculous." It comes out harsher than intended and he rolls his shoulders trying to loosen the tension that's building. He isn't, not really. He just doesn't like the idea of being confined in a tiny cage that could ultimately lead to a harrowing and crushing death which honestly, seems perfectly rational and reasonable as far as he's concerned.

"283, 280..."

The repetitive count continues and she might not have picked up on this before but she _definitely_ knows when he's lying and clutches her bag under her arm with a confused frown. She's _Donna, s_he doesn't miss things and this seems like a huge faux pas for her character. "No..." she shakes her head directing the comment more at herself than him, "you're scared of hospital food, that creepy sign swinger dressed as a sandwich on 52nd/3rd, suspension bridges and I know you don't like goats-"

"_Donna_." He grinds out her name, fingers tugging at the knot in his tie in an attempt to focus on anything other than the images she's conjuring. "Really _not_ helping."

It's expelled beneath a strained wheeze and her eyes widen realizing he's not kidding.

"Shit, I _didn't-_" she fumbles over the apology, placing her bag on the floor and using both hands to steady his shoulders. He's suffered from panic attacks in the past but she's never witnessed one and settles on his glassy gaze, her voice calm and focused as she tries to guide him through it. "I'm here... I'm _right_ here, just breathe.'

He nods, a squeak in his throat the only sound that spills around them. He was doing fine, handling himself and then she had to go and mention the fucking sandwich man. "I'm _good-_" he forces the reassurance out, her light touch and concerned gaze stealing the weight of his anxiety. For some reason it's more important that he be okay for her than to not be and his breathing slows on instinct, his body responding to the internal command.

It takes a few seconds before she's fully able to believe him but she doesn't let go, sliding her fingers up to brush the beads of sweat from his forehead. She feels like an idiot for doubting him and smooths his hair back with a small smile.

"I'm scared of caterpillars."

He holds her gaze, swallowing the residual panic knotted in his throat so he can take her in properly. She's flushed, clearly worried, but there's also a hint of guilt behind her quirked lips and he clasps her hand bringing it back down. "No, you're not." He finds his answer in the sheepish shake of her head and honestly he could care less about the impending danger of plummeting to their deaths. She makes him feel safe, like nothing else exits outside of them, and when a buzzing hum sends the cart back into motion he barely notices.

"We don't _ever_ talk about this."

There's a lightheartedness to the request and her grins spreads wider at the gentle take-back of control. "Anyone asks, we were having sex." She hooks an eyebrow up, her slender fingers reaching to adjust his tie. They're _definitely_ going to talk about what happened, that much is a given, but for now they need to do what they do best; kick ass at the office and figure out how to be the best versions of themselves at home.

Because as difficult as it may seem, confronting their fears is how they move forward.


	2. Chapter 2

She leaves him to wind down once they're back at his condo, calling Rachel for their weekly catch-up and taking a shower before finding him seated changing on the bed.

By the time she has her dress organised for their dry-clean run he's already taken off his shoes, tie and jacket, and she folds her arms over her pajamas approaching him with a soft tone. "Are we going to talk about it?"

He glances over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. "Your fear of caterpillars, sure."

It's an attempt to avoid the conversation and she edges around the corner of the mattress stopping beside him. "What happened today-"

"You mean, what we agreed not to mention?" He cuts her off not in the mood to talk about it. He had a lapse; it happens. It didn't stop him closing two deals or bringing in a new client and he pulls his off socks ignoring the dip beside him as she sits down.

"I'm worried about you."

There's no judgement to her voice, just gentle concern, but that doesn't make him any more comfortable talking about it. "Well, you don't need to be." He stands up throwing the bundle in the hamper as he crosses over to the dresser. Swinging sandwich men aside, he's moved on and as far as he's concerned she should too.

A stretched silence fills the space between them and she breaks it with a very un-like Donna hesitancy. "We've never talked about them before."

He assumes she's referring to his panic attacks and wishes he could will away the conversation she seems insistent on having. He went to therapy and he dealt with them. One minor slip isn't a reason to go hashing up the past. "Because there's no reason to."

He digs out a warn t-shirt along and pair of slacks, his comfort clothes in the summer months, but she doesn't bother pointing out the fact. Something happened today and maybe it was just a one-off but with everything going on at the firm right now, there's every chance it _wasn't_ and she pushes him because that's what they do. They challenge each other, especially when it's hard. "So you say."

He stops with a sighs and turns around clutching the clothes in his hands. "_Donna_-"

"Are they happening again?" There's no room for misinterpretation. It's a straightforward question and she drops her head, fiddling with her hands in her lap. They've been coasting through a honeymoon period which has been blissfully void of hard truths but there are going to be times they need to broach them, and she needs honesty when they do.

Her uncertainty is enough to break through his initial discomfort. She wouldn't be asking if hadn't been weighing on her and he drops his arms expelling a short breath. "No." It's the truth. Maybe he can't fully explain how he's feeling but he can give her the facts and he sends her a tense shrug. "That was the first one I've have, _since_-"

The room goes suddenly quiet and she glances up filling in the blanks for him. "I went to work for Louis." It's another thing that's been ignored between them for far too long and she pulls her hands a part resting them on either side of the mattress. "We've never talked about that either."

"Because there isn't a reason to." He mimics her repetitiveness not ever sure why they're having the discussion. Her leaving him is something that should be kept in the past and he tosses the pile of clothing he's holding onto the bed, focusing on undoing the line of buttons down his shirt.

It's clear he has no intention of carrying on the conversation and her frustration peaks at the dismissal. "You want to know what I'm scared of?"

His fingers pause their task and she readies herself to admit her biggest fear; that he's willing to commit but he'll always be too proud let her in and that this relationship will wind up being her mother and father's divorce repeating itself. "For thirteen years, I wasnt enough for you..." there's no accusation beneath the tone, instead it wavers under the strain of what she's been afraid of, "what if you're only here because I'm the one who didn't leave."

Her eyes well with moisture and the words hit him so hard it nearly knocks the air from his lungs. What she's saying couldn't be further from the truth and for her to even think it possible drives him to one knee in front of her, intercepting her gaze that's angled at the floor. "_Donna_," he breathes out her name, finding his way around what he does know he's feeling, "for thirteen years you've been _everything_ to me. That's why there isn't anybody else because it's you... and it's always been you. You don't ever need to doubt that."

The conviction in his promise expands with warmth in her chest and she nods wiping her lashes with a small smile. Maybe he wont ever be the kind of person who volunteers up his insecurities but so long as they keep doing this, making sure the lines of communication open, then they won't ever repeat the mistakes her parents made. "That sandwich guy _is_ creepy."

He chuckles softly as he lifts up onto the bed humming his amusement. "Yeah, he is."

Her smile in response is more convincing and he tucks her hair back over her shoulder with a light sigh. He knows she's still worried. He can read it in her expression and he drops his hand to her knee, shaking his head at the memory he's been avoiding all day. "Marcus locked me in a cupboard when we were kids once. That's why I don't like small spaces."

He clears his throat obviously embarrassed but she doesn't give him any time to think about, finding his mouth with an open kiss to show her gratitude. He responds instantly, the tension between them melting away and she's never been more sure about anything.

So long as they stay away from the corner of 52nd/3rd, they're going to be just fine.


End file.
